


Apartment 12B

by SmilesLikeIMeanIt



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27016273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmilesLikeIMeanIt/pseuds/SmilesLikeIMeanIt
Summary: When their lives and living situations get unexpectedly turned upside down, the last thing these very different strangers expect to find is love.Clexa Roommate A/U
Relationships: Anya & Lexa (The 100), Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Clexa - Relationship, Costia/Lexa (The 100), Octavia Blake & Clarke Griffin, Octavia Blake/Lincoln
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	Apartment 12B

Rain poured heavily over the gloomy city, the poor drainage system causing pools of water to gather quickly in the street, glittering like fairy lights under the glow from the surrounding street lamps, Clarke cursed at a taxi cab that refused to slow its pace as it passed her, splashing water all over her new suede boots – why she thought wearing suede in Polis in the middle of October would be a good idea is anyone’s guess. Her apartment was only a block away but the piercing cold and strong wind seemed to make the journey longer somehow.

By the time she reached the door of her building her clothes were soaked through, her hands red raw from the frigid night air; she fumbled with the key for a few turns, making a mental note to invest in a pair of gloves, sensible ones, not the cut-off finger kind she usually went for. Once inside, she bounced on the balls of her feet for a moment, partially to shake off some of the wet, mostly in a futile effort to will the warmth of the indoors into her bones. Glancing at the wall of dull, copper mailboxes she contemplated checking hers, her mother would have sent her monthly cheque by now, but her mailbox key was buried somewhere deep inside her purse and she desperately needed to get out of her wet clothes and the draft-y hallway. She passed the out-of-service elevator, unconvinced that it had ever actually worked, and trudged up the three floors to her apartment.

“You’re home late.”

Clarke sighed, not in the mood. Using the last morsel of energy she had to force a smile onto her face, she turned to address the woman at number 5.

“Sure am, Mrs. McAllister.”

“You know it’s not safe for young women to be wandering around the streets alone at night.”

“Mmmhm.”

Clarke returned her attention to unlocking her door.

“It’s not like in my day when you could leave your doors unlocked without even giving it a second thought.”

“No, I guess not.”

“You should really start looking for a boyfriend, then he could walk you home.”

Finally getting the door open, she looked up once again and waved goodbye to her neighbour, “Yeah, good talk! Goodnight Mrs. McAllister.”

She didn’t wait for the older woman to respond before closing the door behind her with a hard thud, leaning her head against the cold wood for a moment, she exhaled deeply, slid the chain into place and turned the key in the lock.  
The apartment was considerably warmer than the hallway and smelled of lavender and pine – a sure tell her roommate was home.

Clarke kicked off her shoes into the pile near the door and padded deeper into the apartment, wet socks uncomfortable on her feet. Octavia was nestled on the couch in an oversized Polis University sweatshirt and covered with a plush grey blanket, her laptop open in front of her.

“Hey.” Clarke greeted quietly.

Octavia shut the laptop lid in a hurry, a startled look on her face. Clarke raised an eyebrow.

“Everything ok, O?”

“Of course.” The brunette nodded – Clarke wasn’t convinced.

Octavia’s features relaxed as she placed the computer to one side and reached for the steaming mug of tea resting on the coffee table in front of her beforefinally looking up at her friend.

“You’re soaking.”

“Yeah.” Clarke shrugged out of her heavy raincoat. “It’s raining.”

Octavia rolled her eyes.

“Don’t even thinking about putting your wet coat on that chair!” She scolded just as Clarke was about to rest her coat on the back of the armchair. “Go hang it up and take a shower, you’ll get sick hanging around in wet clothes.”

“OK, mom.” Clarke chuckled.

She was met with a pillow to the head which she promptly picked up and threw back at the girl on the couch, smiling as she made her way to their shared bathroom.

**

She relished in the warmth of the water as it sprayed over her in pleasant contrast to her earlier downpour. Her hands massaged the fragrant shampoo into her hair – Octavia’s expensive one, but she knew she wouldn’t mind ¬– and allowed the rich aromas to lull her into a sense of tranquillity. With each passing minute she felt herself relax, her tight muscles loosening as she lathered her limbs with soap. When she was satisfied that the cold had been well and truly banished, she sat down in the tub, a habit of hers after a long day, allowing the shower water to wash over her like a waterfall, savouring the silence. She knew when she left the bathroom that Octavia would have a glass of her favourite red waiting for her, popcorn or leftovers probably heating in the microwave already, Octavia was perceptive like that, she could always tell when Clarke had a bad day and always knew exactly what she needed to fix it.

She sat there for a minute longer, mind blank, staring at the off-white square tiles on the opposite wall. Her head felt like it was buzzing as it unwound from a day of activity – forced smiles, fake laughs – when it eventually stopped, she stood and turned the water off, drying herself with the nearest towel before wrapping herself in the fluffy bathrobe she had placed on the radiator in advance.

As predicted, the smell of buttery popcorn greeted her when she re-entered the living room, a generous glass of merlot sitting in front of her side of the couch.

“Rough day?” Octavia asked as she placed the large bowel between them.

Clarke downed a large gulp of wine and shrugged, “Same ole, same ole.”

“You should really look into finding a new job. You’re miserable.”

Clarke scoffed.

“You sound like Mrs. McAllister.”

Octavia threw a piece of popcorn in her direction, but it missed and landed somewhere on the floor.

“Rude.”

“You’re right, I know, I just,” Clarke shrugged again, gently swirling the contents of her glass, “I don’t know what I’d do. Sure this job is bullshit and the hours suck, but the pay is good.”

“What about going back to school? You always wanted to study art.”

Clarke smiled at her friend, grateful for her optimism and faith that Clarke could do something as bold as return to college in pursue of her former passion.

“That was just a pipe dream, O. The art world is next to impossible to crack, I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Hey!” Octavia’s voice was stern but it caught Clarke’s attention, looking up to meet the smaller woman’s eye. “I know this isn’t my best friend selling herself short! Because if it is I will literally beat your ass until I knock some sense into you.”

Clarke laughed, the first genuine one all day.

“I don’t know if I even want to go back to college, spend all that time studying when I could be out in the world making money and advancing my career.”

“In a job you hate.”

“It’s still a job.”

Octavia nodded in agreement, she sympathised with Clarke, she couldn’t imagine going to work every day and hating every second of it, she loved her job, but she also knew she was of the lucky few, that most people just worked to survive.

“Anyway, I feel like I haven’t see you all week. What’s new with you?”

Octavia began coughing furiously in response.

“O? Are you ok?” Clarke asked in concern, reaching over to pat her friend’s back.

“Yeah,” Octavia answered, reaching for her own glass and gesturing to her throat with the other hand, “Kernel got stuck.”

She coughed again, and looked nervously around the room, looking at anything but Clarke.

“You’re acting weird.”

“Mmm, no I’m not.”

“Yeah you are. Ever since I got home you’ve been like… cagey or something. What’s going on?”

Octavia took a deep breath before meeting Clarke’s stare, she looked conflicted so Clarke placed a comforting hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Is everything ok with Lincoln?” She asked, worried that her friend might be going through a relationship rough patch that she’d been too busy to notice ¬– it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Oh god, yeah.” Octavia assured instantly, “He’s great. We’re great.”

She paused, taking another deep breath before sitting up straighter and turning to face Clarke more full on.

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Clarke manoeuvred herself to mirror the brunette’s body language, resting an arm on the back of the couch. “Oh?”

Octavia nodded but it seemed to be more for her own internal encouragement than in response to Clarke’s query.

“Lincoln and I have been talking, and we both feel that it’s time that we take things to the next level.”

Clarke nodded slowly, trying to follow where this was going.

“He wants us to move in together.”

Clarke squealed in excitement and relief, placing her glass of wine on the table so that she could jump forward and pull her friend into a hug, spilling half the popcorn bowl as she did so.

“Oh my god, O! That’s amazing news. Congratulations.”

Octavia tentatively reciprocated the hug.

“You’re not mad?”

Clarke pulled back, still smiling.

“Of course I’m not mad. I’m gonna miss you like hell, and it’s gonna suck having to find a new roommate but this is great for you. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks Clarke.” Octavia squeezed back tightly before letting her go.

Clarke picked up her wine and took a sip before asking, “So, when are you planning on moving out?”

She tried to sound nonchalant but she knew she didn’t do a good job if Octavia’s sympathetic look was anything to go by.

“Soon. We’re still looking for an apartment – Lincoln’s place is too small for us both, plus he lives over that grungy hot dog stand so it always smells like pork if you leave the windows open, and anywhere decent that we’ve found within our price range is too far of a commute without a car. I’ve been trying to convince Lincoln that we should get a motorcycle but that’s just another added expense and–“

“Why don’t you take this place?” Clarke cut her off, the words spilling from her mouth before she even had time to consider them. She’s sure her expression was probably equally as surprised as Octavia’s at the offer.

“Clarke– We can’t.” Octavia reluctantly declined, “I’m the one who’s changing the situation, I can’t ask you to move out of your home.”

“You’re not asking! Seriously, O, it makes more sense,” Her words held more conviction than she felt, “This is a great location and the rent is affordable. It’ll be easier for me to find a nice apartment in the city with a roommate than it’ll be for you to find somewhere totally new.”

She didn’t mention that it helped that her mom sent her a rent cheque every month which made her financial situation considerably more comfortable than Octavia’s.

“Plus, then I won’t have to listen to Mrs. McAlister remind me how bleak my love life is, or how I’ll die alone if I don’t find a husband before I’m 30.” She laughed in an effort to lighten the mood.

It worked.

“Oh god, maybe I should just go live in Lincoln’s pork smelling apartment.”

The two girls laughed at the thought.

As the laughter died down, Octavia took Clarke’s hand, serious when she asked, “Are you sure Clarke?”

She wasn’t, but nodded anyway.

“Of course.”

/

Across town, the tension in apartment 12B was palpable. Lexa stood unmoving in front of the bedroom window, watching as the tiny droplets of rain raced each other to the bottom.

“Please, say something?”

The voice sounded distant even though the owner’s proximity was so close.

“That’s mine.”

Her own voice sounded foreign to her, more gravelly from shouting.

“What?”

“That’s mine.” She repeated, finally turning, bristling at the sight of the half-full suitcase open on the bed. Lexa pointed to the book in the other girl’s hand, she had seen her reflection retrieve it from the bookshelf.

The brunette looked down at the faded orange cover with its slightly torn binding, and nodded sadly. It didn’t really matter whose it was, they both knew that, but Lexa needed to say something, to demand something, to regain some control; and this was a battle Costia was willing to let her win. She walked slowly back to the bookshelf and returned it to its former resting place.

“Can we talk?” She pleaded quietly, still facing the shelf.

“There’s nothing left to say.”

Costia turned, the fire in her eyes burning brightly, it was obvious she was boiling over on the inside – she was never one to back down easily – and if she wasn’t so mad, Lexa would have been impressed by the command she held over her emotions in that moment. She could tell it was difficult for Costia, to not demand they talk things through, insist they stay up all night if they had to. But as well as Lexa knew Costia, Costia knew her just the same, and knew that her efforts to argue or defend herself would be futile, Lexa’s mind was made up and trying to persuade her otherwise would just be wasted breath.

The taller girl picked up a cardigan from the floor and folded it messily into the suitcase. Lexa swallowed past the lump in her throat, watching as Costia placed item after item in the open bag, her anger was turning quickly to sadness and she knew if she didn’t get out now, she’d give in; and she wasn’t giving in, instead she grabbed her leather jacket from where she had thrown in on the bed in a rage and moved towards the door.

“You’re leaving?”

Lexa paused, resolution cracking a little more at how dejected Costia sounded. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she squared her shoulders, one hand on the doorknob, refusing to look back as she answered.

“Don’t be here when I get back.”

**

The bar was heaving when she arrived, the air hot and thick. Lexa pushed past a group of girls who looked barely legal to get to the only empty seat at the bar.

“You don’t look so good.”

She looked up from the hole she was boring into the container of straws in front of her to see the bartender’s concerned expression.

“Rough night.” She explained with a weak smile.

He offered her a sympathetic one in return.

“The usual?”

She nodded.

He returned a moment later with a bottle of Corona, a small lime wedge tucked snugly into the neck.

“You’re phone’s buzzing.”

She looked to where her phone sat on the bar, the face smiling back at her now leaving a sour taste in her mouth, she shrugged, pressed the lime further into the bottle and took a large chug.

“You’re busy tonight.” Lexa observed, looking around the bar.

Throwing the towel he had used to wipe down the bar’s surface, he nodded and gave a tired sigh, “Yeah I think everyone’s just trying to escape the rain. It’s been non-stop.”

“No Echo tonight?”

He shook his head.

“Gave her the night off. New guy just started,” He gestured toward the skinny, shaggy haired college kid who was struggling to change a keg. “As you can see it’s going well.”

She smiled.

“Shouldn’t you go help him?”

The bartender laughed, studying the young man for a moment longer before admitting that yes, he probably should take over. He told Lexa he’d be back with a refill shortly and went to help the boy.

She felt her phone buzz again, looking down at that same smiling photo she had adored only hours before, she hit the decline button and polished off the rest of her beer.

Once the keg had been switched and the waiting queue of thirsty patrons tended to, the bartender returned with a fresh bottle for Lexa.

“This one’s one the house.”

“Thanks Lincoln.” She accepted sadly, watching the condensation run a path down the neck of the bottle as she had raindrops had earlier.

“Wanna talk about?” He offered, leaning his elbow against a beer tap.

She shook her head.

“No, that’s ok.” She looked up at him with a humourless chuckle, “If I do I might cry, and if I cry I might not stop.”

He nodded in understanding, bending down beneath the bar and returning with two shot glasses, he then turned around and grabbed a bottle of black barrel whiskey from the top shelf.

“Wanna drink about it?”

She gave him a grateful if watery smile and a small nod.

He poured them a shot each and held his glass up to meet hers, she reciprocated and they downed the dark liquid in unison. Lexa barely flinched, enjoying the way the alcohol burned a path down her throat, through her chest, and settled in a warm pool in her belly.

Lincoln stayed nearby for most of the evening, excusing himself every now and then when the new barman appeared to be struggling to keep up with the volume of orders. They didn’t talk much, but she was thankful for the company. Lincoln had a very calming presence and she felt more relaxed just by being in his vicinity – though the alcohol likely also played a part.

The bar started to empty out around 1 a.m. with only a few stragglers left polishing off their drinks.

Lexa had begun to feel the effects of the alcohol – she normally wasn’t a big drinker so the four bottles of beer and three shots were giving her a pretty pleasant buzz – she liked it, was happy to feel something other than the crippling sadness and anger that had consumed her since dinner.

“Want me to walk you home?” Lincoln offered after seeing the last of the patrons out and locking the main door behind them.

“Don’t you have to lock up?”

He shook his head and threw his dirty towel on the bar.

“The kid can take care of what’s left of the clean-up, I’ll swing by on my way home and make sure everything’s locked.”

“Thanks Lincoln.”

**

They walked in mostly silence, the rain had ceased but the breeze was icy cold. Lexa blew into her hands to keep them warm.

“Here, take these.”

Lincoln dug into his pockets for a moment and produced a pair of large woollen gloves which Lexa gratefully accepted.

“You’re a real gentleman you know.” She told him with a gentle smile.

He smiled proudly back, “So I’ve been told.”

“You’re girlfriend’s a lucky girl.”

He shook his head.

“I’m the lucky one.”

Lexa smiled sadly – she had felt like that once, not so long ago.

“How is she? Octavia, right?”

“That’s right.” His eyes lit up at the mention of her name, “And she’s wonderful. We’re actually moving in together.”

“That’s lovely news, congratulations.”

He nodded his head in thanks.

“Have you found a place yet?”

Lincoln dug his hands deeper into his pockets causing his jacket to drag down in the front as he hunched up his shoulders against the cold.

“Still working on it.”

“Want my place?”

Her tone was bitter, he knew the offer wasn’t sincere.

“Oooh I could never afford a place like this.” He played along as they came to a stop in front of Lexa’s building.

Lexa rolled her eyes but she knew he was only half joking. Her Uptown apartment was expensive, she wasn’t even sure if she would be able to afford it on her own, but finances were the least of her problems right now.

“Thanks for walking me home.”

“Of course.”

There was a brief pause before Lincoln stepped closer to offer her a hug, it was fleeting, friendly, and exactly what she needed. She gave him a small wave when they parted and turned to toward the entrance but stopped short when he called her name. She looked over her shoulder at him expectantly.

“Why didn’t you call Anya?”

It was his way of gauging just how upset she really was. They didn’t know each other very well, only from the bar really, but he knew her well enough to know that if things were really bad, she’d have gone to Anya. She guesses he must have figured since she didn’t that it was probably something small, a bad day, or a silly fight with Costia.

With another sad, watery smile she answered, “She has court in the morning. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

Lincoln gave her a knowing nod, telling her she knows where to find him if she needed anything, and with a final thanks they parted ways.

Dread began to fill her as she neared her apartment door, she must have stood unmoving for a solid five minutes just staring at the gold lettering –12B – stalling, unprepared for what she would find behind it.

She wasn’t entirely sure what would be worse, Costia still being there wanting to talk, or an empty, lifeless apartment and the stark reality of what her life was now.

With a steadying breath, she turned her key in the lock and timidly pushed the door open, stepping inside and closing it behind her with a gentle click.

She scanned the dark apartment as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, nothing appeared to be out of place – probably because nothing ever was – she stepped deeper inside, searching for any evidence the earlier half of her evening had even occurred.

The dirty plates and takeout containers had been washed and disposed of, the remanets of the glass she’d accidentally knocked over swept away, the only indicator of the evening was the single wine glass on the draining rack and the half-drunk bottle of Pinot on the counter.

She tossed her keys into the bowl in the hallway and made her way to their room – her room now – everything was in its usual place, the bed neatly dressed, the only thing missing was the sallow skinned brunette who usually occupied the left-hand side of it. Lexa felt her chest tighten and she struggled to breath, bracing herself against the dresser, she choked out a gut wrenching sob. The tears seemed to come faster than Lexa could keep up with. The rational part of her brain was pleading with her to calm down; to breath, but she couldn’t, her breaths were too shallow for the intake of air her lungs required and she felt herself slump to the floor. She lowered herself onto the soft carpet and curled herself into a ball, crying until she ran out of tears and exhausted herself.

She woke a while later, momentarily disorientated and stiff from her position on the floor. She sat up slowly and looked around, realising she must have cried herself to sleep. She stood from the floor, removed her sneakers and placed them carefully under the chair in the corner, her leather jacket folded neatly over one of its arms, she didn’t bother to get changed out of the rest of her clothes. She paused for a moment before walking to her side of the bed, she thought about sleeping on the couch but decided she wasn’t that much of masochist and climbing under the covers. She tossed and turned for a few minutes until the subtle waft of Costia’s shampoo filled her nostrils, Lexa picked up the pillow from Costia’s side and threw it to the floor, making a mental note to change the sheets in the morning.

The idea of rinsing Costia from her life in such a trivial manner brought a fresh bought of tears to her eyes and she quietly sobbed until her sadness tired her out once again.

/

Octavia had left for work by the time Clarke had woken, the sound of the apartment door closing had briefly stirred her but she rolled over and nestled back into the warm comforter.

When her own alarm sounded a little later she groaned, reached for her phone and promptly hit ‘stop’. She knew it was about 9:04a.m as she routinely set her alarm for 9:03a.m. and every 5 minutes thereafter until 9:30 when she absolutely had to get up. She considered just lying there staring into space for the next 26minutes but weighed up that if she got up now, she would have time to take the little detour to her favourite coffee shop Uptown before she had to be at work. Grabbing a sweater from the floor she dragged herself out of bed and she shivered as she entered the living room. The living space was almost always near sub-zero temperature during the day – Octavia had an annoying habit of opening every window in the place each morning, insisting that good ventilation was paramount in avoiding getting sick though it seemed to Clarke like a sure-fire way to catch a cold. She let Octavia have her way seeing as how they were rarely home in the middle of the day midweek anyway.

Pulling down the sleeves of sweatshirt, Clarke opened the fridge to grab some milk for her cereal but instead found a bowl of pancake batter with a post-it note stuck to the clingfilm that read, _To the best roommate and friend in the world. I owe you BIG TIME xx O._

Clarke smiled at the note, feeling good about her decision to forfeit her half of the apartment for the sake of love, a feeling mildly tainted by the anxiety that was starting to creep its way in at having to find somewhere else to live.

As she went about cooking the batter , Clarke fleetingly entertained the idea that maybe she didn’t have to move out, maybe Lincoln could just move in and nothing else had to change. It was a silly notion, she knew, the three of them got along famously – it was next to impossible not to like Lincoln – but she already felt like a major third wheel when they hung out; she didn’t need that feeling creeping into her home life as well. Plus, she was pretty certain the whole point of Octavia and Lincoln moving in together was to have their own space. Scooping the fluffy pancakes on to a plate, she decided to save them all that awkward conversation and simply make peace with the offer she had put forth. It’s not like they would expect her out tomorrow, she would have a couple of weeks to figure it out. The thought lessened her anxiety some.

Once she’d finished eating Clarke checked her phone, she was still making good time but the pancakes had set her back a bit, she’d need to hurry if she wanted to make it to the coffee shop. She rinsed her plate and wedged it in the sink underneath last night’s popcorn bowl and an array of other dirty dishes and cutlery, promising herself to do them later – though if she was lucky, Octavia might be so grateful, she’d do them before Clarke got home.

She stumbled over something on her way to the bathroom, looking down she noticed it was Lincoln’s jacket – he must’ve called after she went to bed.

In the shower she wondered if Octavia had already told him about her offer, if it would be a gradual transition to him moving in, would there be a cross over period where they all shared the apartment until Clarke found somewhere new, or would he wait to move in until she had left? She shut the water off abruptly as though it would curb her growing anxiety.

Lincoln was nowhere to be seen as she closed the door behind her to leave for work, he must’ve had a late night if he was still in bed – he was usually the first one up in the morning cooking up a storm whenever he stayed over.

She stepped out into the bright street, a stark contrast to the night before, the sun was shining brightly, the air crisp, it was cold but not in the harsh, piercing way it had been for the last week, it _felt_ like Autumn.

Her cheeks and nose were rosy red when she finally reached her coffee spot Uptown, aptly named _CUptown_ , the rich aromas filled her senses as she stepped inside. It was quiet for a Friday, though she supposes rush hour had long since passed.

“What can I get for you?” The friendly barista smiled as Clarke neared the register.

She quickly scanned the menu.

“I’ll take a pumpkin spice latte please.”

He nodded and moved toward the coffee machine.

Clarke was perusing the shelf of signature coffee blends when the door to the coffee shop burst open dramatically, the culprit – a tall woman with defined bone structure and a commanding air ¬– was unapologetic about the disruption she’d caused, talking animatedly to someone on the phone. She held up two fingers in lieu of greeting when the Barista turned to take her order, he simply nodded and returned to the coffee station, seemingly knowing what the woman wanted already.

“What do you mean she didn’t show up? Where is she?”

Clarke didn’t mean to eavesdrop but the woman was talking loudly, she really didn’t envy the person on the other end of the line.

The woman let out an exasperated sigh, “No! Just leave it to me. I’ll deal with it.”

“Pumpkin spice latte. Two americanos.”

Clarke stepped forward and reached for her coffee, as if not even realising Clarke was there, the angry looking woman blew past her and grabbed her own two cups.

“Excuse me!” Clarke said, shocked at the woman’s rudeness.

She looked Clarke up and down, her pinstripe suit and five-inch heels accentuating her height even more, she seemed to tower over Clarke, “You’re excused” she responded in a dismissively patronising tone and breezed out of the coffee shop in the same manner she’d blown in.

/

In 12B the air was silent and stuffy, Lexa had forgotten to place the heater on timer – she had asked Costia to do it a week ago – and she didn’t have the will to get out of bed to turn it off or open the windows. With her head buried under her duvet she barely heard the faint knocking sound at her door, she poked her head out of the blankets just enough to see the digital clock on her dresser read 10:17a.m. She contemplated ignoring it, it was probably just the kid from down the hall who liked to spin in circles and see how far down the hallway they could get without falling down, banging into walls and doors in their efforts. With a sigh, she pulled the covers over her head again and willed herself to fall back to sleep.

The knocking turned to banging.

“Lexa, open the fuck up.”

Okay, definitely _not_ the kid from down the hall.

Lexa threw the covers off and stared at the ceiling for a moment before pulling herself out of bed, uncaring that she was still wearing her clothes from last night, or that her hair was a knotty mess, or that she had more mascara under her eyes than on her lashes.

She swung the door open and stepped aside, not even bothering to look at who it was, she already knew.

“You look like shit. I’ve been calling you all morning”

Lexa didn’t respond, just closed the door and walked over to sit on the couch. She hadn’t heard her phone ring, it must be dead.

“Coffee.”

Anya placed the paper cup in front of her on the coffee table, the smell of caffeine alerting her that her senses were still alive though she felt lifeless.

“Thanks.” She picked up the take out cup, and blew gently over the small hole in the lid.

“Ok, you’re alive. Wanna tell me why you didn’t show up for work this morning?”

“I thought you had court this morning?” Lexa deflected.

“I did, guy accepted a plea deal. What’s going on?”

Lexa traced the words on the top of the lid with her index finger – _CUptown_.

“She’s gone.” Was all she could choke out past the fresh lump that had formed in her throat.

Without missing a beat, Anya was out of her seat and next to Lexa in an instant, pulling her close. They weren’t usually affectionate with on another but they were both willing to make an exception under the circumstances.

“What happened?” Anya’s voice was steady as she gently rocked them back and forth, Lexa knew she was already mad at Costia without even knowing what she’d done. She was fiercely loyal.

Lexa tried to get the words out, opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a silent sob and the tears began to flow again. Anya cradled her head to her breast, not caring that her freshly laundered pinstripe suit was being stained with day old mascara.

“Did she break up with you?”

Lexa shook her head.

“You broke up with her?”

She nodded.

Knowing there was only one reason Lexa would be the one to walk away, Anaya tentatively asked, “Did she cheat on you?”

Lexa collapsed further into Anya in response, her sobs growing more agonising, the stream of tears seemingly endless. They sat like that for the bones of an hour, neither of them saying a word, Anaya rubbed her hand gently on Lexa’s back until Lexa had once again exhausted herself

Once the tears had dried up, Lexa pulled away from Anya, her face muscles sore from crying, chest aching, she placed her head in her hands.

“What am I going to do?”

Anya placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

“You’re gonna get up, brush yourself off, and take a shower because you stink.”

Lexa laughed for what felt like the first time in forever.

With a sniffle, she nodded and rose from the couch.

“Then what?”

She was both hoping for some more light hearted encouragement and genuine direction. Anya stood too, towering over Lexa in her five-inch heels, she cupped Lexa’s face in both her hands, forcing her to look at her.

“Then we’re gonna figure it out.”


End file.
